#mpf writing

For the prompt "how's your [wound]?" from a lovely list of starters that I saw on my dash but forgot to like/reblog apparently

I've been binging too much rpdr and this was the first thing my mind went to sry not sry

～～～

Victor stirs from his doze on Yuuri's shoulder, into which he promptly muffles a weak noise of pain.

He had drifted off to whatever movie Yuuri put on for them, hoping the rest would help his headache, but it only seems to have gotten worse. Between coughing fits that leave him breathless and the constant cycle of chills and overheating, this illness is really getting on his nerves.

But, he supposes it's not all bad.

A strong arm is wrapped around his back, holding him close. The warmth of Yuuri's body next to his does wonders to fend off the chill of his fever. He smiles when soft lips press against the top of his head. "Hey," Yuuri whispers, a consideration Victor's pounding head is grateful for. "Feeling any better?"

Victor answers with another noise of pain. His eyes remain closed, though his head aches too much to allow him to fall back asleep. His chest is heavy with congestion, and he feels a bit dizzy despite hardly moving, but having Yuuri here like this is enough to make the pain bearable, at least slightly.

When Yuuri's hand cards though Victor's hair, he sighs out in content and snuggles further into Yuuri's body, absorbing all of the warmth that he can. Above him, Yuuri makes a noise that sounds adoring and fond. The hand in his hair continues its magic for a few more moments, then gently trails down the side of his face until it's cupping a flushed cheek.

"Your fever seems to be rising…" Yuuri murmurs, thumb stroking his cheek. Victor hums, half in response and half in bliss. Yuuri's touch is heavenly, and Victor instinctively leans into it. He allows his eyes to flutter open. The glow from the screen hurts his eyes, even with the brightness on the lowest setting, but Yuuri's gaze is soft and Victor finds it all too easy to melt into it.

Yuuri's expression softens with sympathy when he sees Victor wince against the bright lights. "How's your head?" he asks.

The question is innocent, but under the influence of fever and pain and spoiled with affection, Victor's lips quirk upwards in a playful smile. "Well, you haven't complained so far, so I'd say pretty good."

By the look on Yuuri's face, it's obvious he doesn't get it. His face is blank, like a freshly resurfaced ice rink. He blinks. Blinks again.

Victor can only laugh. Though he quickly comes to regret that decision as laughing leads to coughing and coughing makes his chest hurt and makes his head hurt even more.

"What's so funny?" Yuuri asks, somewhere between amused and concerned, rubbing Victor's back as he struggles to catch his breath.

Once the fit is over, he sags limply against Yuuri. "You didn't get the joke…" Victor pouts.

"Oh, I did. It just... took a second is all."

Victor rubs at his temples with a shaky hand and a grimace. All joking aside, his head feels like it's about to explode, cracked open like a watermelon hit with a baseball bat.

"You're such a dork. I love you," Yuuri says, sweetly kissing Victor's forehead.

"Love you too," Victor says back, managing a smile though the pain.

"Now then," Yuuri says, slipping away from Victors embrace and getting up, "Tylenol?"

let’s just ignore the fact that Yuri has a coach who should be there at the rink

1600~ words

Takes place sometime after ep 12 in Russia

1200~ words

～～～

From across the rink, Yuuri scrutinizes the item held in Victor’s hands. The logo of Victor’s favourite cafe is displayed on the front of it, the familiar design revealing it is one of the special filtered tea mugs Victor loves to gush about. While the sight of him clutching a travel mug at morning practice is not an unusual one, seeing it now has Yuuri slowing to a stop on the ice as he gets a better look at his coach.

It's not that Victor doesn't like tea. It's far from an odd occurrence for Victor to bring a thermos with him to stay energized through practice and warm against the chill of the cold winter weather.

Only now there is no chill, as it's the middle of spring.

“Tired already, Yuuri?” Victor calls, his wide smile conveying the quip about Yuuri’s stamina that he doesn't voice.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at Victor, paying his comment no mind. “You never drink tea,” he says accusingly.

For a moment, Victor looks like he's taken off guardーalmost as if he were caught in the actーbut he quickly composes himself. “I do sometimes,” Victor replies simply, taking a sip rather nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “When it's freezing outsideーwhich it's not right now. Or when you need the caffeine, or when your throat is really bothering you because you're sick.”

That causes Victor to flinch, and Yuuri knows he's right.

“It's nothing,” Victor dismisses with a wave of his hand and a smile practiced to perfection. “I'm just a bit tired. I didn't sleep too well last night is all.”

Yuuri is well aware of the fact. Victor had been doing nothing but tossing and turning. Yuuri is surprised to hear he got any kind of rest at all.

It's obvious to Yuuri that Victor is sick. Or at the very least coming down with something. While it's likely not obvious to anyone else, the signs are all there. It's not even just the mug of tea, it’s the fact that Victor tried to hide it from Yuuri. He had prepared it and packed it in secrecy, much like he had hid his illness the first time he had been sick in their relationship. Yuuri would have thought that by now that Victor wouldn't try to do these things on his own.

Yuuri is tempted to advise they cut their practice short, that they go home and Victor rests, but he knows the idea will be shot down the moment he suggests it. Plus, as much as Yuuri hates to admit it, Victor’s condition isn't bad enough to warrant sentencing him to bedrest. At least not yet.

So instead he settles for letting Victor have his way for a while, and pretends he doesn't notice when Victor turns away to cough into the crook of his elbow.

Yuuri runs through his routine again and again, until the movements become more natural than breathing. Victor gives his compliments and critiques, each one sounding more tired and strained than the last. Yuuri still doesn't voice his concern, knowing even now it will fall on deaf ears.

He loses himself in his skating, until the ice feels like it's moving beneath his feet, as if it were the one dancing for him, rather than the other way around. The sharp slice of his blades echoes in his ears, the crisp and cool rink air fills his lungs with each heavy breath. He pushes himself harder, thoroughly enjoying every minute of it, until thoughts about Victor’s steadily deteriorating condition are all but forgotten.

He comes to a finish in the centre of the ice, breathing hard, feeling confident about a performance well done. He had landed every single jump, even the quad flip, though the landing was a bit shaky which he doubts Victor will let slide. His spins were tight, his step sequence was remarkable as always. Though Victor insists there is always room for improvement, and Yuuri is ready to hear where he should start.

But surprisingly there is no such input from Victor. Only silence. Puzzled, Yuuri turns and looks for his coach and finds him plucking a number of tissues from the plush poodle and blowing his nose into them.

A pang of annoyance surges through Yuuri. Victor just missed a near-perfect run through of his routine. (Even perfect run throughs are near-perfect to Victor.) But then, as Victor emerges from behind the cover of the kleenex, Yuuri feels all of his annoyance melt away into pity.

Even from a distance, Victor’s nose is noticeably red. His eyes (which have yet to notice Yuuri staring) lack the usual sparkle, and there are dark smudges underneath them. Victor sniffles, stuffing the used tissue into the pocket of his jacket, then wraps it more tightly around himself as he visibly shivers. His overall form broadcasts his exhaustion, the tired sigh he releases further proving that point.

“Victor?” Yuuri calls, causing Victor to snap his head up.

His cheeks are flushed, which could easily be from embarrassment at the realization he had missed Yuuri’s routine. Though judging by everything else Yuuri has witnessed, he's willing to bet Victor is running a fever.

Victor’s posture changes in an instant. He straightens up and takes his hands out of his pockets, forcing a smile that Yuuri sees right through.

“Ah, sorry Yuuri. I got a bit distracted for a minute there,” Victor says with a lighthearted laugh, as if that will distract Yuuri from how hoarse his voice sounds. “I'm sure your routine was lovely! Though I wouldn't be opposed to seeing you do it again. I'm confident you have the stamina.”

Yuuri has had enough. He makes his way over to the boards where Victor is. “Maybe I do, but you don't.”

Victor blinks, still acting innocent. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You're obviously sick,” Yuuri points out.

“It's… just a little cold,” Victor relinquishes, his voice quiet and sheepish. “I can still coach you. I'm fine,” Victor insists, or at least he tries to; his breath catches and he sharply turns away to sneeze before he can finish his sentence.

As Victor groans and reaches for a tissue to blow his nose yet again, Yuuri picks up the mug of tea and hands it to him. Victor accepts without a word, takes a sip, then heaves a sigh as he sets the drink down.

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand in his and runs his finger over where the ring is. It's covered by his glove, and that is another dead giveaway to Yuuri that Victor is well and truly sick: he never passes up an opportunity to flash their engagement rings. He must really be chilled.

“Come on. Let's get you home,” Yuuri says.

He expects Victor to argue, to insist he's okay to keep coaching, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. But Victor must either be feeling that bad, or perhaps he can't find it in himself to resist Yuuri’s sweet charms, because he just smiles, adoration written all over his features, and lets Yuuri lead him by the hand to the benches.

～～～

“I know you’re scared of getting nightmares, but you won’t get better unless you get some sleep.” 

Sickfic sentence starters found here!

～～～

When Yuuri returns to the bedroom carrying a bowl of cold water in hand, he can’t help but give an exasperated sigh at the sight that greets him. On the bed, Victor is sitting propped up against a pile of pillows, rather than lying down like he was when Yuuri had left. His eyes are at half-mast, and keep drooping shut then snapping open again at the last second as he forces himself to remain awake. He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice Yuuri has entered the room until he says his name in a somewhat admonishing tone.

While Victor’s reluctance to get some sleep is frustrating, one look at himーwith his unkempt hair, heavy bags under his eyes, and a dark flush painted across his cheeksーleaves Yuuri feeling nothing but worried, and incredibly sympathetic towards his poor sick fiance.

Yuuri places the bowl of water on the nightstand and takes a seat on the bed. “You look tired.”

Victor slowly shakes his head. “‘m not tired…” he mumbles, and the words might have held the possibility to be convincing if he hadn't immediately followed them with a yawn.

“You are,” Yuuri argues, though not with malice. “I know you're scared of getting nightmares, but you won't get better unless you get some sleep."

Victor casts his gaze down at his lap and says nothing. The clear distress in his tired and feverish eyes drives a stake through Yuuri’s heart, much like when Yuuri had first woken up to Victor throwing himself into his arms after witnessing a nightmare. Try as Yuuri might, he was unable to coax Victor into sharing what he had seen that distressed him so. The only words he uttered to Yuuri (or perhaps just to himself) were, “just a dream” over and over again, as he shook his head as if to dispel the images from his mind. Yuuri could do nothing but hold him close, rubbing wide circles on Victor’s back as he cried until tears soaked into his shirt. Any attempt at sleeping after that resulted in a similar scenario, until Victor decided to forgo sleep altogether.

While Victor jolting awake terrified and clinging to Yuuri is far from ideal, it’s been hours of this self-inflicted insomnia and Victor looks just as miserable as before, if not worse. It’s time he got some proper rest. “You don't need to be afraid, Victor,” Yuuri soothes him, taking his hand and kissing the golden band on his finger. “I’m right here. It will be okay, I promise.” When Victor still doesn’t acknowledge Yuuri’s words, he attempts to ease Victor so he’s laying down once more. He acquiesces far too easily, which is a relief as much as it is a cause for concern.

Once Victor is comfortable, Yuuri grabs the cloth from the bowl on the nightstand and wrings out the excess water. It’s nice and cold, which should feel good on Victor’s heated skin, Yuuri thinks as he gently brushes Victor’s bangs out of the way.

He drapes the compress on Victor’s forehead, causing him to flinch, and Yuuri quietly shushes him as he continues to stroke his hair. “Relax.“ Yuuri takes one of Victor’s too-warm hands and holds in his own, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Close your eyes,” he says softly, and after a second, Victor does. “I’ll be right here,” Yuuri repeats. “Try and sleep for me, okay?”

“Yuuri,” Victor calls, or more accurately whines from where he lays on the bed, trembling beneath a blanket. Part of him wants to cringe at sounding so needy, but the other part of him argues that he’s sick and feels like actual death, so wanting his fiance to comfort him is far from a crime.

Yuuri is at Victor's side in an instant, crouching down in front of the bed, and Victor feels relief wash over him as Yuuri's warm brown eyes meet his. “What is it?” Yuuri asks. His fingers absentmindedly run though Victor’s hair, and he shivers, knowing all the while that the action has little to do with his fever.

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Anything,” Yuuri says without hesitation, and Victor feels a smile tug at the corner of his lips at the thought; he doesn't doubt for a moment that Yuuri honestly would do any and everything for him.

“Can you get me some more tissues?” he requests with a sniffle. The box Yuuri had placed on the bedside table only a couple of hours ago is already half empty, Victor’s nose red and rubbed raw from using it so frequently. “The ones with the lotion?”

“Of course,” Yuuri says with a smile. “I'll be right back.”

Yuuri stands up and makes to exit the bedroom, and Victor mourns the loss of contact immediately. He instead focuses on the beauty of Yuuri's retreating form, wondering even now how he ever managed to ensnare such a wonderfully attractive man for himself.

Many sniffles later, Yuuri returns with a new box of tissuesーthe softer kind, as was promised. The box is freshly opened and ready to use, and Victor gratefully accepts when it's handed to him.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Victor says after blowing his nose. It still hurts, but noticeably less so than the tissues he was using before.

“It's not a problem,” Yuuri replies sweetly. He takes the used tissue from Victor and tosses it in the trash, without even being asked. “Anything else you need?”

Victor pauses to think. “Maybe some more water? It's not cold anymore and my throat is so sore,” Victor moans. Even just talking like this is enough to make it worse.

“I can do that,” Yuuri says. “And I can make you some tea as well?”

Victor smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. “I would love that.”

Yuuri places a very gentle kiss on the tip of Victor’s nose, causing his already-warm cheeks to heat up from the affection. “Two minutes,” Yuuri promises, before he's gone again.

He returns as quickly as he said he would, with a glass of cold water in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. Both do wonders for Victor’s sore throat.

“Can I get you anything else?” Yuuri asks. “A cold washcloth? Cough drops? I could put on a movie if you want. Or maybe not, if your head is still hurting.” Victor winces, his head throbbing at the mere thought of flashing lights assaulting his already aching eyes. Upon seeing Victor’s discomfort, Yuuri instead offers, “Tylenol?”

Victor nods. “Please.”

As Yuuri retrieves the pills, Victor can't help but recall Yuuri's earlier words. When Victor had asked Yuuri if he could do something for him, his response had been “anything.” Given his actions now, it's evident that he was not lying. And seeing how willing and eager he is to provide comfort, Victor can't help but want to test just how far he can take this.

“Fluff my pillows?” Victor asks once he has taken his medicine, and Yuuri does.

“Fix the blanket please? I'm so cold…” Yuuri adjusts the blanket already covering Victor’s shivering body, then grabs yet another one from the hall closet and tucks him in tight.

“Any other requests?” Yuuri inquires after further darkening the curtains like Victor had asked. He doesn't sound annoyed. In fact, far from it. He shows absolutely no qualms about catering to each and every one of Victor’s whims. It’s incredibly sweet, but Victor still wants to see where Yuuri will draw the line.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asks. Yuuri will surely say no, unless he wants to get sick and feel as miserable as Victor does now. (Well, miserable save for a loving fiance doting on him.) Perhaps Yuuri will indulge him with a kiss on the forehead to check his temperature, or maybe a quick peck on the cheek. But there's no way Yuuri will actually kiss him for real.

How quick Victor is to forget that Yuuri has always managed to surprise him.

Yuuri leans in and presses his lips to Victor’s before the man has any opportunity to protest.

“There,” Yuuri says, smiling as he pulls back. “How’s that?” His cheeks are a similar shade to Victor’s, though from embarrassment rather than the cold that Victor now knows with certainty Yuuri is going to catch from him.

“You're going to get sick!”

Yuuri seems completely unfazed by this. “Did that make you feel better?” he asks.

“Well, yes, butー”

“Then it will be more than worth it.”

Victor can't find any further reason to argue, so he doesn't. Defeated, he can only slump back against the pillows Yuuri so kindly fluffed for him, and relish in the knowledge that he well and truly has the best fiance in the whole world. That's just a fact.

“I have one last request,” Victor says.

“Yes?” Yuuri prompts, just as eager and willing as the previous times.

“Stay by my side?”

He doesn't even finish his sentence before Yuuri is crawling under the covers with Victor and securing him in an embrace.

“You don't even have to ask.”

～～～

Feverish crack, based off of this prompt by @lumpy-whumpy

Set somewhere between episodes 3 and 6

Minor warning for mentions of pregnancy, sex and mpreg (tho none of them actually happen or have happened).

900~ words

～～～

Yuuri bursts through the door to Victor’s room, wide awake and panicking despite the ungodly hour of the morning.

“Victor!” Yuuri shouts as he hurries over to the bed, where a blanketed lump is sleeping. Yuuri shakes his shoulders, calling his name again. “Victor, wake up! Help me!” Victor’s response comes in the form of a sleepy groan, then the covers are pulled back, revealing a very bleary-looking living legend.

“Yuuri?” Victor says, voice gravelly and a bit slurred from sleep, but he’s quickly becoming more awake as he registers Yuuri’s alarm. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

Yuuri thrusts the small electronic device in his hands at Victor’s face. “I have 102.1 babies inside of me!”

A long pauses follows, filled only with the rapid beat of Yuuri’s heart as it pounds against his ribcage. Victor just stares.

“Yuuri, that’s a thermometer.”

Yuuri doesn’t even process Victor’s words. His mind is reeling, running at a million miles per minute. “This is all because of your eros!” Yuuri bemoans. “Your eros is too strong! I should have tried harder to stay away, but I didn’t and now I’m pegrent!” Yuuri says, but that’s not the right word, is it? He tries again. “Pegnate! No… pergenat! Dammit, that’s not it either…” He scrunches up his face in thought, cursing the English language and it’s many immense difficulties. “Pregananant!

“Pregnant?” Victor helpfully provides.

“Yeah, that!”

Yuuri drops his arms to the side with a huff of air, sitting down on the bed. Victor sits up, taking a spot next to Yuuri. “This is just like those skating fanfictions I used to read. Stupid mpregs…” Yuuri mutters to himself. Karma is truly a bitch.

Victor blinks. “What?” he says, but Yuuri once again pays him no mind, too caught up in the whirlwind of anxiety.

“I can’t be pregnant, Victor! My parents will kill me! You and I haven't even had sex! Which makes me sad, to be honest. And now we can’t for nine months because I’ll be pregnant!” Yuuri laments, borderline hysterical. “With 102.1 babies! That’s so many! We have to think of what to name them all. And we’ll have to go shopping for clothes. And we’re obviously going to have to teach them how to skate. You are going to father them with me, aren’t you Victor? Oh please tell me you are! I know it might not be the best for your image, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of doing this aloneー”

“Yuuri, Yuuri, slow down,” Victor cuts off his rambling, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath.” Victor takes one in demonstration, and Yuuri follows his lead. The flurry of emotions escapes along with the breath he releases, his swirling thoughts no longer threatening to consume him.

“You just have a fever,” Victor tells him. “You’re perfectly fine.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen. “I have a fever? I’m sick? But what about… what about the babies? Will they be okay?”

“Yuuri, you are not pregnant. You have a fever of 102.1. You need rest. Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.”

Yuuri finds himself nodding. Now that he’s with child, he needs all the rest he can get.

“Will you carry me?” Yuuri asks. “Walking isn’t good for the baby. Well, babies,” he corrects himself. 102.1 babies… He still can’t believe it… What will his stomach look like? Will he ever be able to get his body back into shape after? And oh god, what does all of this even mean for skating? His career, and Victor is coaching himー

And now Victor is carrying him, Yuuri scooped up in Victor’s firm and muscular arms.

Instinctively, Yuuri wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, holding on tight as Victor lifts him like he’s nothing. It feels nice. Vaguely, Yuuri hopes Victor will still be able to lift him so easily even when he’s carrying the weight of 102.1 babies inside of him.

All too soon, Yuuri is lowered onto his bed, back in his own room. Victor tucks him in and pulls up the blankets, making sure Yuuri is comfortable and has everything he needs.

Then he heads for the door.

Yuuri reaches for him in a panic, grasping on to a fistful of his shirt.

“Wait, aren’t you gonna sleep?” Yuuri asks, not letting go.

Victor looks at him confusedly. “Yes?”

“Well there’s only one bed in here, and you can’t sleep on the floor, so that means we have to share!” Yuuri declares, then promptly breaks off into a fit of giggles. “It’s just like in the fanfictions…”

“I was going to go back to my room,” Victor explains. “You need your rest, Yuuri. You’re not well…”

Yuuri only shakes his head. “Stay with me.” He fixes Victor with pleading, watery eyes, and is just about to add, “It’s for the babies,” but Victor is already climbing underneath the covers to join Yuuri.

Yuuri moves towards him immediately, longing to be closer. He wraps his arms around Victor, the man visibly stiffening, though he slowly relaxes as Yuuri pillows his head on his chest. Victor’s heartbeat sounds against his ear, just on the edge of fast, but undeniably strong and soothing, quickly lulling Yuuri to sleep. He melts into Victor’s embrace with a blissful sigh.

“I’m glad you’re the father,” Yuuri mumbles as he nuzzles Victor’s chest. “You’ll make a great dad.” The last thing Yuuri registers before succumbing to sleep is Victor’s gentle laugh, and fingers running through his hair.

～～～

(102.1F is 38.9C, and the thermometer is in Fahrenheit and not Celsius because it's one Yuuri had brought back with him from the States.)

THIS KILLED ME DEAD THANKS HERE YA GO

～～～

“Please, you need to calm down.”

Victor is anything but calm. He’s panicking, the heart rate monitor he is hooked up to beeping loud and insistent in a way that only aggravates the throbbing in his head. He’s being held down by a woman in a doctor’s uniform, a couple of other people are surrounding Victor, ready to move into action when given the word. How the hell is he supposed to stay calm like this?!

He has no idea what’s going on, or what happened. All he knows is he woke up with no memory of how he got hereーwherever here even isー and now he is terrified and needs to get out. Needs to escape from this bed and run out the doors. He’s not too sure what he’ll do from there, but he can figure that out later. For now, the only thing on his mind is the desperate need to escape.

He thrashes against the arms holding him down, kicking out his legs for good measure, but all that does is cause pain to flare up. Victor squeezes his eyes shut and moans. Voices sound all around him, there’s too much sound, far too much for Victor’s overloaded and panicking brain to construe. Through the disorienting haze, Victor hears someone say, “You have to stand back.”

Everything feels like too much. The smell of antiseptics is sharp and nauseating. The lights above him are too bright, even with his eyes squeezed shut. The throbbing in his head is excruciating, the confusion and fear is overwhelming. “Stop…” Victor manages to get out past a tight and dry throat. “Please…”

“Hold him down,” that same voice from before orders, before more armsーas firm as the words commandedーpin him down so he is unable to move.

“No,” Victor weakly tries to protest. He opens his eyes to try and plead with woman there, his panic only increasing further at the sight of a long, slender needle held in her gloved hand. His eyes remain fixed on it, unable to tear his gaze away. His pulse pounds in his ears, and he tries futilely once again to free himself, but he’s only held down tighter.

Fingers are locked around his wrists, like cuffs pinning him to a table to be tortured. More weight is pressed on his legs, though less so on the one he can now distantly tell is injured. A palm is splayed over Victor’s chest, and he’s sure they can feel the rapid thump of his heart as it threatens to beat out of his chest. They can certainly hear it too, broadcasted by the equipment next to his bed.

The woman holding the needle moves, doing something with it that Victor cannot see. And then, after a long momentーfilled only with the rapid rise and fall of Victor’s chestーthe arms that are relentlessly pinning him to the bed ease. Victor nearly cries in relief. He can move again, put up a fight against these people, whoever they even are.

He tries to move his arms. Though they are no longer being pinned, they feel unusually weighed down. Sluggish, out of his control.

Victor blinks slowly. “Wha…?”

His brain quickly becomes shrouded in a heavy fog. He’s no longer consumed by panic, though it lingers at the edges of his consciousness as he struggles to understand why he no longer possesses his strength. He tries to lift his head, but moving only causes the room to spin. He lets himself weakly fall back against the pillow.

“There you go,” a voice gently soothes. “Sleep.”

Victor doesn’t want to sleep. He still doesn’t know where he is, or how he ended up here, or why his head is throbbing and his leg feels like it got run over by a truck. He doesn’t know what awaits him in the darkness that’s closing in on him with every passing second, and it terrifies him. He doesn’t know what will await him on the other side of it, the next time he regains consciousness.

He tries to do somethingーanythingーto fight back, but even moving his fingers requires a tremendous amount of effort. His eyelids feel like they weigh a tonne, but he refuses to close them. He looks around the room, desperately searching for an exit. He has to get out of here. He has toー

“It’s okay,” a voice soothes, and it’s a different voice this time. One that Victor recognizes in an instant. He didn’t even notice he was in the room, but now he’s leaning over Victor’s bed. A hand comes up to caress his cheek, his soft brown eyes giving away the worry masked by his sweet but strained smile.

“Yuuri…” Victor gets out past slow-moving lips, but Yuuri only shushes him.

“Don’t talk, just rest,” Yuuri whispers, still stroking Victor’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he says again, and Victor lets himself believe it. If Yuuri is here, then Victor knows he’s safe. Through the gentleness of his voice, the warmth of his touch, Victor feels himself falling deeper and deeper. The darkness doesn’t seem so scary anymore. In fact, it seems inviting. The panic recedes, his breaths even out, the rhythmic beep of the heart rate monitor slows to its normal pace. His eyelids droop, then at last slip shut.

Set somewhere before episode 6, because I’m a sucker for the somp dynamic

Mild warning for nausea and brief emeto

3400~ words